


Scorned

by ABrighterDarkness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21096875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: Before the cowardly attempted to pay his way to having her killed in a ‘potions accident’. Poor simple fool.  She always repaid her debts.  She was quite looking forward to squaring this one.





	Scorned

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fairest of the Rare's Fairest's Freaky Spooktacular writing event.

She slipped in without a word. Light on her feet through the heavily wooded landscape, stepping carefully over sticks and root. It wouldn’t due to announce her presence before she was ready. It wasn’t until she stood before the crackling fire that cold eyes caught her movement and snapped up to meet her own from the opposite side of the glowing flames.

It was obvious the moment that recognition sunk in. A widening of the eyes. A sharp inhale. Slight change in the colouring of the skin. Paling, more so than usual. Tension in the lines of the body. 

Only for an all-too-brief moment. 

After all, it was not done to show surprise. 

Or fear.

No, those indications were all masked as quickly as possible. Walls came up. Facial muscles forced to relax and twist into an approximation of a condescending sneer. Posture dropping into false casualness.

Even the best masks are imperfect, though. Dilated pupils. The tremble in fingertips before they curled into tight fists to disguise the tell. Tightening of the jaw and the heavy bob of the adam’s apple. The heavy beat of a racing heart pulsing against the pale skin.

His body betrayed his fear. His fear of her.

Good.

“How are you here?” He demanded, clearly trying his damnedest to sound authoritative. Pity that slight waver in his voice made his attempts fall flat.

She chose not to answer, moving clockwise on near-silent feet in slow even movements around him, fingertips dragging across from shoulder to shoulder. It could have been mistaken as an intimate touch. May have been, once upon a time. The shudder that escaped through his facade at the touch, though? Both knew it was not borne of any sort of affection. 

“You brought me here,” she answered, leaning into his back to breathe the words against the shell of his ear. “How could I turn down this opportunity to repay my debt?”

“The wards--”

A sharp laugh escaped her, “Are perfectly intact. Not to worry, love. You’ll learn not to underestimate me.” She drifted around to stand in front of him, positioned between the glowing flames of the crackling fire and the seated man. “Your night of seclusion is just going to get more interesting.”

“You need to leave,” he insisted seeming to gain a trace amount of courage, casting a weary glance at the wood case that she had casually dropped between his feet.

She withdrew a sizable sachet from her pocket, weighing it in her hand thoughtfully, she watched his gaze catch on it curiously. A flick of her wand ensured he would not be leaving his seat without her say so. She would hate for him to miss even a moment of what she had so carefully crafted together for him. With a tilt of her head and a slight quirk of her lips she casually tossed the heavy sachet over her shoulder and into the fire.

The fire flared with the added fuel. And she was in his space once again, fingers tangled tightly in the hair at the base of his skull, yanking hard enough to direct his face upwards. She smiled sweetly, free hand tracing his features with a gentle touch. A lover’s caress. Maybe. Once upon a time.

Before the cowardly attempted to pay his way to having her killed in a ‘potions accident’. Poor simple fool. She always repaid her debts. She was quite looking forward to squaring this one.

“You should have made sure you succeeded,” she whispered sweetly into his ear, ensuring her words were heard. “Done the dirty work yourself. Enjoy your fire, love.”

She pressed a harsh kiss to his lips before releasing his hair. As she turned she pointedly kicked the box at his feet, releasing the catch before turning away. With an easy casual pace, she kept walking until she had left the clearing. Content to watch the events unfold from among the trees. 

She could tell the moment that the boggart escaped its wooden cage and the very moment the sachet’s contents came into effect. The first whimpering scream drew a cruelly satisfied smile. And soon the night was filled with them. Echoing through the clearing and the dense forest. 

Like music. 

Music she could listen to until the end. And she would.

She didn’t think he underestimated her anymore.

%%%

The Leaky Cauldron was perfect for an early dinner. If one was quiet and unassuming enough, you could learn nearly anything. Just by listening. The place was ripe with gossip at the best of times, as long as you knew where to look and who to listen to.

Thankfully, she was and she did.

“Did you hear?” One man asked, eagerly from the next table over.

“Did I hear what?” his friend asked with exasperated fondness.

“Malfoy kicked it last night.”

“What?” the witch gasped, eyes wide. Any attempts at discouraging gossip clearly waylaid by the apparent topic. “What happened?”

“Dunno for sure yet,” he shrugged carelessly. “Was a whole load of hallucinogenic stuff in what was left of his fire. No telling what the bloke was seeing with that mess. Wreaked of firewhiskey, too.”

“He’s a healer. Surely he knew the risks of such things?” the unfamiliar witch frowned.

“D’ya think he scared himself to death?”

“Certainly sounds possible. Merlin, what a truly awful way to go,” the witch shuddered.

“Hopefully the Papaver Doxies eased him through the worst of it,” Luna called from her table, earning her nearly mirrored looks of exasperated confusion from the pair.

“Hopefully,” the witch agreed, confusion clear in the woman’s tone.

That was okay though. 

Papaver may have helped Draco Malfoy along but it certainly wasn’t the  _ doxie _ variety. She toned out the rest of the pair’s conversation and leaned back into her seat, smiling externally but internally satisfied. Luna dipped a hand into her bag, hanging on the back of her chair and lovingly stroked the wooden box inside. She smiled when the box shuddered against her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, Luna's comment about "Papaver" and the Doxie variety, "Papaver somniferum" is the scientific name of opium poppy :).


End file.
